


Pie by the Ocean

by LettersFromSokovia (ScribbleFox)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, Cas is still with the Winchesters, Day At The Beach, Fluff, Humor, I will add more tags later, M/M, Post-Season/Series 11, Rating May Change, Team Free Will, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:32:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6999721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbleFox/pseuds/LettersFromSokovia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all the hardships and turmoil of past seasons, Team Free Will finally gets a long-needed beach vacation. Well, kind of.<br/>This is mostly fluff and humor. Mostly. Just a little drama. And a case. Enjoy! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - The Pizzaman's Journal

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters of this lovely show don't belong to me, I just wanted to send them on a well-deserved trip.

He soaked up the warmth with every fiber of his body. His skin was covered in sand that stuck to his feet and legs. The air, heavy and warm, dried his trunks while he was sitting under a red parasol, staring at the ocean he just swam in. He looked at the man resting next to him. Cas opened his eyes, yawned softly and smiled back at him.

_ How did we even get here? _ He thought. _This can’t be real. There was a job. Wasn’t there?_

“Look what I found.” Sam's tall figure cast its shadow on him. His brother held a small book in his right hand. It was bound in black leather, wrinkled by sunlight and saltwater. Dean took it from Sam’s hand and opened it.

_ Day 1,  _ he read. _I brought them pizza. They suspect nothing._

“What is this?” Dean snorted.

“I don't know, Dean.” Sam sat down next to him, stretching his long legs on the sand. “But if you go on reading it gets even weirder.”

Dean flipped through the pages. He stopped at a page which was covered in exclamation marks and hastily written notes.

_ Day 32 _

_ King of hell locked himself in bathroom and won't talk to me. Complains about the wrong Winchester! _

_ Guinea pig ate the scripture! Church burned down! Unable to perform the ritual. Oh brother, where are thou?  _

“Why does this thing mention Crowley?” Although he didn't want to, Dean's mind got distracted from Cas' head that was leaning on his shoulder, reading. The angel sighed but didn't say anything. “I mean this is friggin' nuts. Where did you get that thing?”

“Close to the Tiki bar.” Sam said. “Almost missed it. But you know, thinking about it, isn't it strange? I mean, how we got here?”

“No, we won this thing, didn't we?”

“Which thing, Dean?”

“That thing.” While he was still trying to remember the name of the competition or lottery or what the hell it was that brought them here, Sam's face grew more and more alarmed. “You know, the one with the prize and all. They gave us that giant check.”

“I am not so sure about that.” Sam got up and looked around. “All I can remember is that we had this case in...”

Dean snapped his fingers. “Hiverton. We were in Hiverton, Vermont. See, nothing unusual.”

“This is the Bahamas or some remote Polynesian island for all I know, Dean. How did we get here?”

“On a plane.” Cas looked at them. “It was a rather unpleasant experience.”

The brothers exchanged glances.

“I don't fly.” Dean said.

“Maybe we should start at the beginning.” Sam suggested and sat down again.

“There was this article in the paper. You told me about it.” Dean said.

“Yeah, a ghost sighting in a small town in Vermont.”


	2. That's my Jam

_ Beans, bass and even spam – everything tastes better with Heaven’s Finest jam! _

_ (From: The World’s Most Unsuccessful Advertisements - A Collection) _

 

This job was as routine as it could get. This was good news. This was what they needed right now. Dean was standing in line at a gas station, slightly swinging on his heels, looking around without noticing anything noticeable. Even better. This place was plain boring. Some local folks were shopping here, too. An old lady was going through her purse for pennies and dimes at the checkout. A little girl in a black-and-yellow dress was playing with a fat white dog, her mother was tapping her foot as the old lady counted each penny individually. Dean smirked at the young, attractive mother. She scoffed and looked away. Dean turned his head, indifferent to her lack of interest. Nothing would spoil his good mood today. Through the dust-smeared windows he could see the back of Cas’ head as he sat upright and still as ever in Baby’s backseat. Dean smiled to himself. They got that idiot back. 

“Dean, you wanna pay anytime soon?”, Sam said with a small frown. 

“Yeah, sure.” Dean put his road food on the counter. Sam placed bags with fruit and vegetables and something that looked like a smoothie next to it. Dean wrinkled his nose, but didn’t feel the need to say anything. Okay, he could have, but this day was just too good. 

“What’s that song that you’re humming?”, Sam asked when they were leaving the shop. 

“Song, what song?” Dean shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Sammy.”

He got in the driver seat and passed the shopping bag to Cas. “Here, you want some?”

Cas frowned. “Thank you, Dean.” He rifled through candy bars, cheap cookies and bags of crisps and ended up looking at Sam’s healthier choices. Carefully, as if it might break, he took a banana and peeled it at an unnerving speed.

Dean found himself staring in the rear mirror, watching Cas peel the banana and put it in his mou-

“Dean?” Sam’s voice startled him. “You okay?”

Dean felt a sudden heat in his cheeks, crawling all the way up to his ears. “Yeah, sure, just feel like I’m the only man here with all your rabbit food.”

“Bananas aren’t rabbit food, Dean”, Cas said, licking his lips. “Rodents prefer carrots or cucumbers.” He swallowed. “I acquired that information when I thought there was a guinea pig living at your home.”  
Sam smiled at Dean and shrugged. Dean shook his head. “Whatever, dude. Just more of the good stuff for me.”

The drive to their B&B didn’t take long. The town was very small, a couple of houses loosely scattered in what seemed to be a grown pattern of streets and ways. Population: 833 said a rusty sign, that swung idly in the wind when Baby rushed by. Bright sunlight hit them when they got out the Impala.

They were in Hiverton, Vermont. But this town was so average in its peacefulness, it could have been Canada for all that mattered. Sam had found reports about ghost sightings in the area or something of that sort. Being honest, Dean hadn’t listened to all of it. So far they had found out that there was exactly one house that resembled a haunted mansion. A 19th century colonial-style villa, once owned by wealthy English immigrants. Conveniently, it was right next to their cozy B&B which was run by the local mayor, Deborah Queen.

“Call me Debbie”, the middle aged woman said. She smiled at them and shook their hands as they entered the small wooden building. “It’s always good to see some young men passing through.” She laughed. “That came out wrong, but you are a sight for sore eyes!” She patted their hands affectionately. She had warm brown eyes, black curls bouncing on her head and wore a cleavage that was just a little too deep for a mayor. Especially for one so small that she barely reached Sam’s chest. Her yellow blouse matched her dark skin tone perfectly. 

“So, Debbie”, Sam said. “What do you know about this ghost?”

“Well, it’s an old story, really.” She beckoned them to follow her. “And a rather gruesome one. We don’t like to talk about it, but, now it seems like it has got out of hand.”

“How so?”, Sam asked.

“See, this town was once a happy place. We had this jam company, Heaven’s Finest, in town which was supporting a lot of families around here, but when it closed a couple of years ago, people started leaving town.” She stopped in front of a door. “Unfortunately, that’s when it all began.”

Debbie opened the door. “But maybe you want to settle in first? We only have king beds, so I assumed that you wanted to have three separate rooms, don’t you?” For some reason her eyes wandered from Dean to Cas to Sam.

“Yeah, sure.” Dean didn’t like the idea of splitting up and scanned the room for an extra couch. 

Debbie must have assumed something of that sort: “There’s two rooms that are connected to each other. We usually keep them for families with kids, but we’re off season at the moment. You can have them. There’s a third one just above these two.”

“That’s very thoughtful”, Cas said. “But I don’t need to sleep.”

“Oh, dear, we’ve all been there”, Debbie sighed and touched his arm. “Still, try to get some rest. Would you care to join me and my family for dinner?”

“That’s a great idea”, Sam said a little too enthusiastically.

“Perfect.” Debbie smiled. “We usually have dinner at eight. Enjoy your stay at the Hiverton Inn, or the Hive, as we call it.”

She handed them their keys and left.

After they had checked out both rooms and made up a spare bed on a small sofa for Cas – just in case – they got to work. Sam did some research on the local history on his laptop, while Dean started to clean his weapons. Usually this helped him calm down. Today it wouldn’t do the trick. He felt jumpy and tense, a strange excitement pumping in his veins.

“Maybe Cas and I should take a look at the house”, he said.

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with, Dean.”

“It’s just a ghost. Nothing special. Find the bones, burn’em, get out of here.”

“Just… be careful, okay?”

Dean was already at the door. “Come on, Cas. Let’s go get that ghost.”

 

A little later, the smell of moldy fabric brought Dean back to his senses. He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t. There was another, odd smell, but he couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Dean”, Cas whispered somewhere close. “Are you hurt?”

Dean groaned. He managed to turn his head and slowly shake it. Cas was lying right next him.

“Can you move?” Dean asked.

“No.” The angel seemed dissatisfied with his own answer. “It is very strong.”

“What kind of ghost is that?” Dean blinked. His sight was blurry; a thick veil of dust drifted through the air.

“The old man was right”, Cas muttered under his breath. “We shouldn’t have entered the house.”

“What old man?” 

“The old man in the garden. You drank his… refreshments.”

“Did I? Doesn’t sound like me.”

“It sounds exactly like you”, Cas snapped back.

“Come on, don’t get all –“ Something cracked. Lights flickered. They heard a strange rattling, almost like – chains?

“What’s that, a ghost that watched too many movies?”

“I don’t know, Dean. But it is close.”

For a moment they lay in absolute silence. Nothing happened.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I am useless. My powers must be still too weak or -”

“I don’t want to hear that, Cas. We’ll get out of here. Don’t you worry about it. Whatever that son of a bitch is, we’ll get it.”

Cas seemed distracted and muttered with a deep sigh: “This reminds of how it felt when –“ He paused and added: “I couldn't move, too.” His last words were almost inaudible but their sentiment struck a nerve in Dean.

“Snap out of it.” Dean fought harder against the branches that held them. “You’ll be fine, Cas. It’s just a routine job, you hear me?”

When he didn’t get an answer he became aware of the angel's abscence. “Cas? Oh, great.” 

He heard swift steps and the angry clattering of chains loudened, till it suddenly stopped. 

_ “Bee bee bee“, a voice whispered from the other end of the room. „Bee bee bee.“  _

The words drifted through the dust-filled air. A faint giggle resonated with the general buzz of the house.

Then he saw the small figure who ran away with something in its hands that looked alarmingly like Cas’ trench coat.

 

** (15 minutes earlier) **

“This is not a wise decision, Dean. We shouldn’t ignore the old man’s warning.”

“He was wearing a robe or what you call it. Bat-shit crazy. If there’s a ghost in this house, we’ll deal with it.”

Dean opened the door. There was a strange humming in the air, an almost palpable sound. The dark wood, which covered walls and ceilings seemed to vibrate with it. All in all, the interior of the house was gloomy, but didn’t appear to be dangerous. Dean went ahead and took a quick look around. There was an old-fashioned kitchen, a small library and a living room in which despite the dust and neglect giant ferns and other plants grew in oddly painted pots. His feet touched an old carpet which felt way too soft, almost soggy as a bath rug. Shuddering, he felt something crawl up his leg. Slender branches reached up to him from the carpet and grasped his legs. 

“What the hell?” Dean tried to jump but couldn’t move. “Cas? Where are you? Need some help here!”

“I can’t.” The angel said. 

Dean spun around – as far as he still could – and saw Cas at the other end of the carpet, covered in branches, too. Before he could say anything else he felt a strong pull, his knees gave in and he hit the floor hard.

 

** (30 minutes earlier) **

Before they had a chance to enter the villa, they saw an old man in its vast garden. He was wearing a white robe which was only gradually lighter than his long beard. Humming to himself he cut yarrow with a golden sickle. 

“Hey”, Dean said. “You live here?”

He and Cas approached the man, who carefully put the yarrow in a wicker basket. 

“As a matter of fact, boy, I do. That is to say, in this little house over there.” He pointed at a gardening shed. “What can I do for you two?”

“Did you notice anything unusual recently?” Dean asked. “Have you seen or heard anything in the house?”

“Ah, that’s why you are here.” The old man chuckled. “You are … hunters.”

Cas frowned and tilted his head. “You encountered hunters before.”

“I met some of your kind, so to speak. Follow me, I have to put these up for drying or the right hour will have passed.” 

While the old man hung up the yarrow in small tufts under his shed’s roof, Dean asked him about the ghost sightings.

“Oh, my dear boy, there is more than one spirit in this house”, the old man smiled. “I wouldn’t call them ghosts. They have lived here for a long time. Once we were friendly with each other, but the tides have turned. Can I offer you a refreshment?”

Dean nodded and took an earthen cup from the man’s shaking hands. Dean tried the drink and almost vomited. He forced himself to swallow the brown mass which in no way resembled any drink he knew. The liquid left a furry feeling on his tongue. When the man wasn’t looking Dean stuck a finger in his mouth and checked. There was a yellow powder of some sort mixed into the liquid. Dean wiped his finger on his shirt and put the cup away.

“What kind of spirit?” He asked.

“Very old.” The man smiled. “Older than me. Older than the trees and stones. Older than…” His fading eyes stopped at Cas. “Maybe not older than you.”

“Okay, Merlin, so this thing is very old. What else do you know?”

“Ha-ha, I am no Merlin, boy. But you should beware of them. They are still in pain.”

“In pain?”

“Yes, once there was much love for their kind in this town. But not anymore. People forgot about them, but they didn’t forget about them. See, but the people did something so horrible…”

The man looked at Dean, completely lost. “My dear boy, what did I say?”

“The people, they did something horrible.” Cas said, turning away from the flower pots he had been studying.

“Oh, yes, they did.” The man seemed to grow nervous. “You have to leave. Both of you.”

He ushered them out of his shed.

 

** (Now) **

When his brother finally arrived, Dean had had enough time for figuring out what they were dealing with. He heard Sam’s steps before he saw him.

“Dean?” Sam pointed his flashlight left and right. “Cas?”

There was a faint giggling and murmuring in the air, a constant echo of words once spoken. 

“Hello?” Sam followed the resonances, but instead stumbled over his brother.

“Bitch”, Dean groaned.

“Jerk”, Sam said with relief. “What happened to you, Dean?”

“Bo, bitch! Batch bout Bam!” 

“What?”

“Bits ba bodamn bitch!” Dean's frustration grew with every word he mispronounced. 

“I… Are you cursed?” Sam took another look around but except for the strange voice he couldn't see or hear anything that would have explained Dean's behavior. He took a knife from the bag he brought and cut Dean loose. “Come on, let's get you out of here.”

 

Back at the B&B they went through their books and did some research on-line. All their efforts remained without luck. Apart from his momentary inability to communicate, Dean seemed to be in good health. He had tried to write down a note for Sam, but had scribbled endless lines of b after b instead. 

After they had searched every inch of their rooms, even under Baby’s seats, for hex bags or other cursed objects, they were getting ready for their dinner invitation at mayor Debbie's.

“Just don't speak, or try not to”, Sam said. “Maybe the mayor will have some answers.”

Dean grunted shortly and looked unhappily across the room. The setting sun drew strange shadows on their walls. Dean blinked for he thought he saw two blue lights dancing in the shadows. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe it was the curse taking its toll. He lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” Sam seemed concerned. “On second thought, maybe it’s better if I go on my own.”

Dean nodded tiredly. He opened his mouth, because he wanted to say, at least try to say something, but instead a swarm of bees left his parted lips. The insects circled the room and vanished through the vent. Dean felt so tired. The last thing he noticed before he fell asleep was that Sam covered him with a blanket and gave him a long, worried look.


	3. Third Eye

_ Hey, look up! _

_ Don't make a shadow of yourself, _

_ Always shutting out the light. _

_ Caught in your own creation. _

_ Look up, look up! _

_ It tore you open _

_ And oh, how much! _

_ 'Cause there's a hole where your heart lies _

_ And I can see it with my third eye. _

_ And oh my touch, it magnifies _

_ You pull away, you don't know why _

_ That original lifeline […] _

_ Hey, look up! _

_ You don't have to be a ghost, _

_ Here amongst the living. _

_ You are flesh and blood! _

_ And you deserve to be loved and you deserve what you are given. _

_ And oh, how much! _

_ (From: Florence and the Machine – Third Eye) _

 

When he woke up, he felt sick and shaken. Their room was dark, night had fallen, but Sam hadn’t returned yet. Dean sat up and caught his own reflection in the mirror across the room. Maybe it was the strange, pale light which crept through the half-drawn blinds that made him see things. The impossible had happened, apparently. His eyes had turned dark-side again, black and solid. He touched his arm, but the mark hadn’t returned. His reflection looked ghostly and unreal, and still: It was him. He opened his mouth and a swarm of white moths left it. He watched them drift through the air. 

Remembering the old man, he got up and grabbed his jacket. The shadows seemed to follow him. But this must have been his mind playing tricks on him. Restlessly he left the B&B. The town was quiet, only in a few houses the windows were lit. Dean passed the mayor’s house. Through a large window he could see Debbie, sitting at the head of the table. Two young women, twins, were sitting right and left of her. They had long, soft features, carefully braided hair fell down from the top of their heads. Sam sat next to one of the twins. There were three more women, four young girls and a baby in a high chair. They were absorbed in a lively discussion and Dean realized that he hadn’t seen Sam this happy in a while. His brother smiled and laughed, and Dean felt another odd pain. 

When he arrived at the old man’s shed, the Methuselah sat in front of it on a bench smoking his pipe. He didn’t seem to be surprised at Dean’s appearance at this hour. 

“I always wondered”, the man said, “what the world looks like from a demon’s eye. Is it tinged in black, boy?”

Dean shook his head. He wanted to answer the man’s question but he just released another swarm of pale insects. 

“Ah, I see.” The man chuckled. “I tried to warn you, boy. They can be treacherous creatures.” He put down his pipe and looked at Dean. “Those eyes won’t let you see them. Come here, let me help you.”

He took a leather pouch from his belt and opened it. “Sit.”

Dean sat down on the bench, facing the old man. 

“I used to be a healer, you know”, the old man said conversationally. He dipped his finger in an orange powder and drew something on Dean’s forehead. “But when there’s nothing left to heal, what do you do?”

Dean blinked and suddenly there seemed to be a depth added to the world that he hadn’t seen before. Reality had shifted and if it had been a grey and dull replica in purgatory, this was the opposite. There was soft glow to the outlines of plants and trees, a constant shiver in creation.

“Better than one of your dull cinematic places, isn’t it?” The old man chuckled. “If you are quick and quiet you might meet them.”

He picked up his pipe again, stuffed it with tobacco and waved Dean and the smoke away. “Off with you. Be gone now, boy.”

Dean shook his head in disbelieve. At his own surrender to this crap. At the man’s words. At all of it.

 

** Excerpt from the Pizzaman’s Journal: **

_ Day 15: _

_ I watched D. walk safely towards the house. I guess, you were right, brother. He would do anything for HIM. Seeing **is** believing. Must be careful around these witches, though. Almost got to me this time.  _

__

Again, Dean followed the sound of rattling chains. The house was dark and empty. Unhindered he passed the living room. The noises steered him to a staircase that led down to the basement. Candlelight flickered on the walls when he entered a cold cellar room, dungeon-like and breathing with hostility. He observed three young women who didn’t seem to notice him. They were sitting with their eyes closed in a circle, holding hands, chanting Fake-Latin words. A whimper caught Dean’s attention. 

He spotted a third woman, old and fragile, bound in chains at the end of the room. Her long white hair ran down her shoulders and covered her small frame almost completely. She looked directly at him. Her pointy ears twitched at the witches’ words.

 

 

“Fuck, this doesn’t work”, one of the witches said and let go of the others’ hands. “I told you, it said an angel’s grace, not face.”

“Who is supposed to know this shit?”, another one said. “It’s not like we got instructions in this fucking book. I told you, we should just kill this ugly thing.”

“But this is how it was always done, Tilly”, the third one said. “Like, we don’t really have a choice. We harvest from it, and that’s it.”

“Yeah, but it has to be big this time”, the first one said. “Not like those lame suckers before us.”

Dean heard stamping feet and that terrible giggle again, which he had heard before. A little girl, that he recognized as the little girl from the gas station, almost flew down the stairs, dressed in Cas’ trench coat. With big eyes she gazed at Dean but put a finger to her lips in a conspiratorially gesture.

“What is your stupid cousin doing here?”, the one called Tilly said.

“Her babysitter is sick”, the third one said with a shrug. “My auntie asked me and I said it was okay. She doesn’t get what we’re doing anyway.”

“Bee bee bee”, the girl shrieked and held up a bee-shaped amulet. “Bee bee bee.”

“See, she’s dumb”, the third witch said. “Now let’s get on with that.”

“Go play something, Thea”, the first one said. “Or I will cut your heart out.” Playfully, she held up an old-looking dagger.

Thea screamed and stormed off. 

“Great, now you scared her.” The third one scoffed. “Do you know how long it took me the last time to find her? And that fat dog of hers?”

They heard steps for a second time, but not as light as Thea’s.

“Fertility, Prudence and Chastity”, a loud voice bellowed. “Get up here this instance before I forget myself.”

A middle aged woman appeared at the landing. Her tall, thin frame underlined her sour-faced expression. “This is not how we do the Lord’s work.”

“Fuck, my mom.” The second witch said. Hastily they closed their book, blew out the candles and hid their herbs and offerings under an old rug.

When they had gone, Dean approached the old woman. Her eyes were grey and clouded. She pointed to the wall, where Dean once more saw a shadow, but this time it had wings and a pair of bright blue eyes, grace-bright eyes, which stared scornfully at him. 

The old woman waved a hand. The rug was moved from the book and the book opened at a particular page. Dean saw a spell which he didn’t recognize. But he knew just whom to ask. 

Grabbing the book, he looked again at the shadow who had turned to the old woman. She stretched out her hand and reached for Dean. Dean leaned in to her. With her thin and feather-light fingers, she wiped the symbol from Dean’s forehead.

 

“Thanks”, Dean said. His voice raspy and trembling. He turned to the shadow, which was unsteady and flickering again. “Just … wait here, Cas. I’ll fix this.”


	4. Just Bee Yourself

_ Nuffin kanut bee – Hiverton town motto  _

__

“And you are sure that she had pointy ears?” Sam asked. They sat in a cozy diner called _The Honey Po_ t and ate pancakes for breakfast. Dean devoured them as if it was their last day on earth while Sam hadn’t touched any of his. Occasionally, Dean belched drowsy bumblebees which drifted through the morning light. 

“Yeah, looked like she was from friggin’ planet Vulcan”, Dean said.

“And she dealt with the curse? Just like that.”

“I told you, Sammy. Wasn’t a witch, though. Something different.” He pointed his fork at the old book that rested between their coffee mugs. “Wanted me to see something in there.”

They heard the door chime and in came Thea, followed by her mother with her baby brother in her arms and her fat dog. An ugly rag doll was bouncing in the dog’s mouth. Impatiently, the dog circled the girl. She wore a yellow, halo-like ribbon in her light-brown hair and took a look around with a pair of mischievous eyes which reminded Dean of someone or something. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I know you” she said, stopping at their table. 

“Yeah, like hell you do”, Dean said and smiled at her.

“That’s Prudence’s book”, Thea remarked. “She’ll be mad at you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“You should keep it”, the girl added after a short pause. “She isn’t good at this stuff anyway.”

“But you are, aren’t you?” Dean asked.

Thea giggled. “Sometimes I think of funny things and they just happen.”

“Really? Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t talk to you. You’re old. And boring.”

“Thea”, her mother called. 

“That’s my mom. She doesn’t like Prudence and the other girls. She said I have to be good or I won’t meet my dad one day. He’s really special. Like your-”

“Thea!” Her mother joined them, shifting the toddlers weight in her arms from one side to another. “I’m so sorry, sometimes she just doesn’t listen. As if I hadn’t my hands full already with this little ray of sunshine who won’t eat anything but sweets, as usual.”

“It’s okay.” Sam smiled awkwardly at her. 

“You are… these ghost hunters, right?”, Thea’s mother said. “Debbie said something of that sort.”

They learned that Thea’s mother was called June Langstroth, single-mother of two and the mayor’s secretary and friend.

“Thea isn’t allowed to play in that house”, June said with an exhausted sigh. “But you know, kids. She’s had her own mind since she was born.”

Dean wasn’t sure if her mother was aware of Thea’s powers and decided to deal with that question later. “I’ve seen that you’ve got a nice looking amulet, Thea. Mind telling us where you got it?”

“Oh, that.” Thea dug in her pockets and revealed an amulet made of wood and amber. “It’s supposed to look like a bee.” She looked up at her mother.

“It used to be her father’s”, June said. “It’s just an old heirloom, or so he said. She likes to play with it.”

“Can I take a look at it?”, Sam asked.

“Sure.” Thea grinned. “But only if you say _bee_ three times.”

In the next seconds a lot of things happened simultaneously, as if the universe had decided to bundle today’s course of events in one neat minute. Dean wanted to warn Sam, but set free another couple of bumblebees instead. One of them hit the diner’s large window pane right under the second capital O of _Honey Pot_. Just in that second someone walked past the diner and stopped at Baby’s side. Dean watched him checking out the Impala. It was a young fellow with spikey blond hair and freckles. Being thus distracted Dean heard Sam mumble something about a strange engraving on the amulet and a lock or something. Whoever it was that stood there next to the Impala, he looked familiar in a bizarre way. Not like someone Dean actually knew, but he had features that reminded him of someone, like a distant relative. 

Thea laughed. Sam had stopped talking. Dean turned around again, mesmerized by the other man’s odd looks. It took him a moment to realize what must have happened.

Three words were apparently all that was needed. Thea and her mother left hastily mumbling embarrassed apologies. While June was ushering her laughing daughter out of the diner, Dean crawled under their table with yellowish lettuce in his right hand. Thea’s dog had scared the shit out of the little creature that sat under one of the red leather seats. 

“Come on, Sammy”, Dean murmured. “Just get here and eat the damn salad.”

The long-haired guinea pig stared at him and sniffed in his general direction. 

“Looks like you are not the only rodent in the family anymore, Squirrel”, he heard a familiar voice. 

Dean looked up - too quick - and hit his head on the table. 

“Crowley”, he said, putting the salad down and rubbing the back of his head. “What do you want?”

“Nothing that one of you Winchesters could give me”, the king of hell said, “yet. You know, Dean, after all that turmoil with God’s sister I thought that we’d be done in our dealings for a while. And yet, here I am, again, following you and your idiot brother across the country into this picturesque flytrap.”

“Cut the crap, Crowley. Why are you here?” Dean got his feet.

Crowley snapped his fingers and there was the guinea pig version of Sam, wheeking and struggling in his hand. 

“Hey”, Dean growled. 

“Ah”, Crowley held up one finger and passed Sam on to one of his henchmen. “Dean, Dean, Dean. You don’t want Moose here to get hurt, do you? There is something in this town, that is of a particular value to me. You could call it a personal issue, an old relation. It would mean nothing to you. Here is how we will handle this delicate situation.” He paused and looked around the empty diner. “I will change your brother back into his monstrous figure, if you get something for me.”

“What?” Dean asked, mystified by Crowley’s speech.

“The girl’s amulet”, Crowley said. “I want it. Bring it to me and you get Moose back.”

“Why don’t you get it yourself?”

“I can’t”, Crowley answered. “This bloody town is protected by your harp-playing friends, that’s why I am talking to you instead of taking matters into my own hands.”

“Angels? You are saying it is protected by angels?”

Crowley rolled his eyes and sighed. “Not having one of our best days, are we? Get the amulet. Simple as that.”

He snapped his fingers again and was gone.

 

** Excerpt from the Pizzaman’s journal: **

_ I tried to get as close as I could without them seeing me, brother, but I think I almost blew my cover today. I had to do something about it. D. passed out – probably a result from his wholesome meal earlier. I don’t know if they understand your meaning, though. I will do as you commanded. It wasn’t easy to get them both into their car without raising anyone’s attention, but I think I did as best as I could.  _

Dean woke up with a strange taste in his mouth. He blinked. He was lying on his motel bed. He checked his pockets in an absent-minded gesture but nothing was gone. He heard something that sounded like a high-pitched squeal. On a shelf sat a laundry basket in which Sammy ran in circles. Someone had given him a carrot. Crowley? No. Not his style. Dean rubbed his hand over his face and groaned. This case just got much weirder.

He called a few other hunters about the situation, but none of them had ever heard of an amulet that could do stuff like that, and certainly not of a town called Hiverton. Running out of options he decided to take Sammy to the hermit. Maybe he had some answers. 

“So it is little Thea’s amulet for the king of hell, then?” The hermit chuckled, strangely delighted.

“I am afraid I can’t help you with that.” He bent over Sam’s make-shift cage and put some fresh cut dandelion leaves in it. “Do you still have the book that these would-be witches stole from me?”

“Yeah.” Dean said. “What about it?”

“It is called the Book of the Blessed, boy.” The hermit sat down. “It was supposed to be a counterweight to the Book of the Damned, but everything can be turned into a weapon in the wrong or even untrained, foolish hands. You said the creature wanted you to see something. My suggestion is, that you hear her out. Take your brother and that shadow friend of yours.”

When Dean frowned, the hermit pointed to the wall behind them. Cas’ shadow was there, light grey, waiting. 

“You see, that amulet, which your demonic friend demands is cursed”, the hermit said. “But not in the way you’d think. Once there were two lovers who sought out a witch for help. They wanted something that couldn’t be at the time. Hence the amulet reads ‘nothing cannot be’.”

Dean remembered something about an engraving, something Sam had said before he was turned into that walking wig he was now. 

“Mind you, the witch couldn’t write very well, so she spelled the words incorrectly. Their meaning got lost but the spell survived. But it changed with the years, or better, it adapted. It echoes feelings and manifests them. My impression is that it got quite sardonic over the years.”

Dean looked at his guinea pig brother and wondered what vibe Sam must have given off the moment the curse hit him. A craving for green stuff? Unhealthy pride in his hair? He had no clue. Sam didn’t mind his present state too much, gnawing happily at the basket’s plastic. Dean avoided looking at Cas’ shadow as he didn’t need the answer to that question, not now at least. It pained him but he preferred not think about it. 


End file.
